Unknown Origins
by NorthKai
Summary: Yamcha and Bulma thought the problem was taken care of long ago, that the Z fighter no longer had to worry about the creature in his past. Unfortunately, you can't keep a wild animal caged forever. Rated M just in case for language, and some violence.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I edited a few things on the first chapter because I re-read it and was horrified by some of the errors. So my apologies for having to read those. I guess you re-read too many times, even the largest errors become unseen. Anyways, thanks for reading, hope you enjoy it!

A few years leading up to the androids.

She was really pissed off today. Her yells and shrieks could be heard by all the neighbors. *Smash.* Another glass hit the wall.

"You asshole! Why is her number in your phone?!" The blue haired beauty's screams echoed down the halls of Capsule Corp. The lab rats working in the various laboratories poked their heads out of their offices, always up to watch the latest match between the two lovebirds go down. Dr. Briefs was in his office when he heard his daughter's voice booming through the building. Listening for a second, he sighed and continued to tinker with his latest invention.

"S-she's just a lady I met downtown! She's new to town. I was hoping I could hook her up with Krillin!" Yamcha tried to explain. It really was the reason the lady's number was in his phone, but he was mentally kicking himself now for being stupid enough to think he could have another chick's number without Bulma freaking out. He knew better, ' _Dammit Krillin' he thought to himself 'last time I'm helping you out with girls problems.'_ His eyes narrowed as the barrage of insults from his girlfriend continued. He was use to the abuse and accusations during their fights, but he had developed a painful headache about 20 minutes prior to the onslaught, and it was definitely making it worse. He clutched the left side of his head, intertwining his fingers through his jet black hair, applying pressure to try and soothe the ache.

Her back was turned to Yamcha, she was staring at the wall "Oh, you're so kind, helping poor helpless Krillin get a date." Bulma's words dripped with sarcasm and contempt, "Why do I really fucking doubt it Yamcha." Her head whipped to the side as she shot him a look that would have killed a small child.

"Bulma, I promise, that's all it was" Yamcha said in a defeated tone. "Can we drop the subject, my head is killing me." He winced as he said the last words. He was standing between the kitchen table and one of the dark blue couches that created the Brief's living room. A large ficus sat right behind him. He never liked the ugly plant, but he didn't claim he understood interior design either. He moved toward one of the kitchen table chairs, he needed to sit down.

"Your head is killing you!? I'll give you a reason for it to hurt!" Bulma grabbed one of her father's heavy stone ashtrays from the coffee table and flung it at Yamcha's head, barely missing it.

The ashtray crashed onto the tile floor beyond him and into the kitchen. Shocked, Yamcha turned from the table and stared at his girlfriend. "Shit Bulma! Come' on! That almost hit me!"

"That was the freak'in point!" She was facing him now, her arms pinned straight down her sides, fists clenched. Her body was rigid with anger, and she was ready for a fight.

Yamcha just stared at her for a second. He didn't know what else to say. They had had some epic fights in the past, but he always had the feeling that she enjoyed them a lot more than he ever did. He definitely preferred the fighting that involved strength and martial arts, not ones of wit and intelligence. Her pale ocean blue hair was pulled back from her face with a dark blue headband, wild ringlets of hair went every which way above her shoulders. She was wearing that cute red striped dress that accentuated her curves so nicely. How could he convince her that he was being faithful? He looked down at the ground as if to admit defeat, when suddenly from the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of the devil that had recently moved in. The black haired Prince leaned against the hallway door with his signature scowl.

"Go away Vegeta, this doesn't concern you." Yamcha growled. His fists clenched, always a reaction when the Prince was around. He hated the alien with a passion.

With a scoff, Vegeta walked into kitchen towards the refrigerator. "You flatter yourself to think that I would concern myself with your pathetic human issues." Vegeta grabbed a water bottle from the refrigerator, with his back still turned to the fighting couple, he took a sip. The Saiyan paused for a second as he felt the tension in the room rise. Both humans were watching him intently. With his signature smirk, he closed the refrigerator door and leaned against it, taking another sip.

The shorter man's taunting glare made the hairs on Yamcha's neck stand up. "Dammit Vegeta, just get the hell out of here." He knew it was dangerous to continue speaking so rudely to the Saiyan, and usually, he was very self preserving and chose his words wisely, but for some reason right now he didn't care if they Prince pummeled him or not. The pain in his head began to intensify again. Gripping his forehead he squeezed his temples simultaneously, hoping the pressure would dull the needles he felt stabbing him in the back of his eyes.

"I can't believe you! There you go again, more concerned with everything else going on, and ignoring our problems, ignoring me!" Bulma yelled. Yamcha felt a twinge of embarrassment, as he had in fact forgotten for a second that she was standing there. But he couldn't help it, between the migraine and his almighty Prince "pain-in-the-ass," his attention had wandered.

"Your screeching is quite intolerable woman." Vegeta chimed in. He wasn't taking up for the human standing over by the kitchen table, but this woman's screams had interrupted his meditation from outside. He wasn't afraid of the little fiery bombshell that stood in the center of the living room, and he wasn't amused by her childish antics.

"Not you too Vegeta, I don't need two morons at once." Bulma's body seemed to relax a little, her tone deepened, and she crossed both her arms in defiance. She began to give Vegeta an earful, not realizing what was happening over in the corner by the table.

The words began to spin in Yamcha's head. The headache had gotten almost unbearable, and now a low, sharp pain began to grow in his stomach. He was having trouble breathing, and he the voices in the room were amplified to an ear piercing pitch. He was confused, it couldn't be happening, that didn't make any sense. His stomach lurched, he felt his knees begin to weaken. "Shut up Bulma, please." He said quietly, desperation began creeping into his voice. All he could do was stare at the shiny tile floor, trying to steady himself, trying to remain in control.

"I'm sorry, excuse me? Did you just tell me to shut up?!" Bulma whipped her attention back to Yamcha. "You are the reason I am even yelling!" Though she continued to rant, her words became a roar of white noise to the struggling man.

"Please….please stop." Yamcha gasped. He started to collapse. Sweat began to form on his temple. He couldn't breathe. Pain began to radiate through his body. His muscles seized rhythmically to the pulse of his quickening heartbeat.

The Prince, who had been arguing with Bulma moments before, now looked over at the man in the corner with a new found interest. He could feel the human's ki fluctuating rapidly, and could see his muscles trembling under his white long sleeved shirt. To Vegeta's surprise, the man's ki suddenly flared up.

"BULMA!" Yamcha yelled through his clenched teeth. The pain seared through his skull and he slammed his eyes shut, falling to his knees, cracking the tile around them. One hand hit the floor, while he gripped his abdomen tightly with the other. It felt as if his ribs were about to snap. He began to shake uncontrollably as his ki began to hammer through his body.

"What the…? No, that's not possible." Bulma's arms dropped to her sides, she took a step back, eyes widening as she began to realize the severity of the situation. "Yamcha, are you…?" Her voice trailed off.

"Yes!" Yamcha gasped, straining to speak "please...please get something." His eyes were wide and scared as they looked pleadingly at Bulma. Veins began to wiggle and rise from underneath the skin on his face, and his dark brown eyes were beginning to turn a pale blue. He quickly looked back at the floor, his vision and mind were beginning to cloud.

An awful crack split the air as Yamcha's right arm bent backwards and snapped above the elbow. He cried out in pain. A red light began to flicker at the tips of his fingers, lapping at the air with a violent fervor.

Bulma took off running down the hall to her father's lab.

Vegeta had set his water bottle down and now leaned against the kitchen island, watching with intense interest as the human groaned from the agony deep within him. Vegeta considered the man to be a weakling who's ki matched that of an untrained saiyan child's. However, at this moment, the man's ki began to rise more than he thought possible. On the outside, Vegeta kept his stoic demeanor, but on the inside he was confused ' _Even when this man was about to die at the hands of the saibaman his ki never reached this high. Why is it happening now?'_ The Prince snapped back from his thoughts as Bulma ran back into the room, now with a syringe in hand.

"Breathe Yamcha, just breathe!" Bulma cooed softly as she squeezed the last few air bubbles out of the syringe. "Dad says this is the strongest batch he has, it should work." With that she plunged the needle into his arm, right below the shoulder. The liquid in the syringe became red as she pulled back slightly to make sure she found a vein, and with that, released the contents. She felt his muscles trembling as they strained. She closed her eyes as she kept her hand on his shoulder. 'Any minute now…' she thought to herself. She was going through the possible scientific explanations in her head as to why this was occurring, and she was worried because the one plausible answer was not a good one.

The needles contents spread like liquid fire through his veins. It was a strong dose, but it was nothing compared to what the rest of his body felt like. He continued to try and slow his breathing. His throat was on fire, every breath felt like acid was being poured down his throat. He focused on suppressing the force he felt pushing up from within him. His muscles began to relax, his heartbeat slowed. Feeling Bulma's hand pressed against his shoulder gave him more strength then she would ever know. The pain began to subside, and he stopped trembling. A gasping cough was all he could muster, but he had won, he had suppressed it. Still staring at the ground he began to rise, a sharp pain shot up from his right arm. Clutching it quickly, he thought to himself ' _One broken bone...not bad.'_

"Ar-are you alright?" Bulma stuttered. She just stared down at the man rising from the ground. Hair covered his eyes, but the look of distress was written all over his face and body.

Standing up, he swayed a bit, then caught his balance. "I'm gonna go find your father…" was all he could conjur as he glanced at his worried girlfriend. Still holding his injured arm, he began to limp toward the kitchen doorway.

He walked slowly down the hall toward the infirmary, concentrating very hard on ignoring the Prince's curious eyes he felt boring into his back. The alien wasn't the only one confused on what had just happened. Yamcha was utterly perplexed by the sudden episode. ' _It just doesn't make any sense. This isn't suppose to happen anymore, Bulma and Dr. Briefs fixed it.'_ Suddenly becoming dizzy, he leaned against the cool steel walls of the Capsule Corp. hallway. He let out a deep sigh. He would have to try and solve the mystery later, right now, he still felt like crap, and now his arm hurt like hell. Gathering himself up again, he began the march to find Dr. Briefs.


	2. Chapter 2

Standing in the kitchen, Bulma and Vegeta both stared down the hallway in silence. Suddenly, Vegeta turned to Bulma.

"So what in the hell was that?" The Saiyan demanded.

Still staring down the hall with a blank expression "W-we don't actually know. We never have been able to figure it out." She looked at Vegeta with worried eyes, then turned her gaze back to the hallway.

Closing his eyes and letting out a small sigh the Saiyan shifted his weight as he leaned himself against the kitchen island. As he slowly opened his eyes, he found himself staring at the little red light on the coffee machine on the counter in front of him. "He's not human is he?" Vegeta's gaze remained fixed on the red dot.

"I wouldn't say not human…" Bulma quietly answered, but then seemed to become lost in thought again.

In the back of Vegeta's mind he could recall a tale of a race called the Otsoa. It was a mysterious race he did not know much about. The Otsoa were a transient race, and would pop up randomly on planets that were not their own, and then disappear as if never there. One of his father's scouting teams had come into contact with one. The team had been doing reconnaissance on a planet, when they had stumbled across a native. The team had reported to King Vegeta that there had been a minor altercation with the native. During which, the alien began to show signs of intense distress, and all the teams scouters detected the alien's power level triple. They watched as the subject began to transform into what they believed was the wolf-like monster Otsoa. Fearing the unknown, they did not allow for the complete transformation to occur,and the subject was killed. Vegeta had found the tale to be of some interest as a child, but had never concerned himself with the subject since. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he turned to Bulma and asked "It appears this has happened before, how many times?"

Bulma continued to stare into the hall that lead into the abyss, pondering the question. "It happened the first time probably a month after Goku and I found him in the desert. The second time, maybe 3 months…." She stopped mid sentence "It all stopped once Dad and I created the serum, so I don't know why it happened today...or almost happened." She began to look anxious, as if the shock of it all was wearing off. "I'll be in my lab, don't bug me for awhile." With that, she quickly walked down the hall to her office.

"Insolent woman." Vegeta muttered under his breath. Turning his gaze from where Bulma had stood moments before, he brought his gaze back to that incessant red light. ' _There's more to this story.'_ Then, as if finally giving into the the red lights beckoning, he poured himself a cup of lukewarm coffee. Finding coffee to be one of the few positive things earth had to offer, he took a sip and sat down at the kitchen table. He glanced through the sliding glass door at the gravity chamber. He quietly nodded to himself as he took another sip, he would find out more about this secret story.

Yamcha sat on the raised bed in the infirmary while Dr. Briefs continued to look him over. After he had stumbled in beaten and bruised by none other than himself, the doctor had quickly given him a few pain pills and braced his arm. He was feeling much better thanks to those little pills, and he sat on the bed looking around at all the gadgets and tools contained within the infirmary. Several times through their relationship, Bulma had tried to explain to him the various inventions she and her father were always working on. He never really understood any of it, but would just stand there, smile, and agree. Now, letting out a small sigh, he brought his gaze back to the short little man in the white lab coat standing at the bedside. Suddenly a thermometer was shoved in his mouth by a rather rude robot.

"Looks like you have a bit of a fever, Yamcha." Dr. Brief's said as he read the thermometer the robot held. A little black cat appeared behind the doctor's shoulder, it peered at the thermometer, then up at Yamcha. It was a strange little creature.

"Oh yeah?" Ignoring the weird little cats gaze. "That'd explain why I've been feeling like crap all day." He tried to lean back with both arms, but quickly corrected as the pain came roaring up from the broken one already forgotten. Rubbing it quickly as if it would help ease the throbbing. "So...do you have any idea why that happened earlier?" Yamcha blushed, slightly embarrassed about the incident.

"Not exactly...I need to run more tests." Dr. Briefs responded, looking down at some paperwork Yamcha presumed were test results of some sort. Bulma suddenly entered the room. "Bulma dear, come in, I could use your help figuring this out." Dr. Briefs signalled to his daughter to come to the infirmary bed where her boyfriend sat.

"It's changing…" Bulma's eyes widened as she read the results her father had pointed out. "The antivirals aren't working anymore, it appears there's a diminishing effect occurring within the subject."

Yamcha winced a little when he heard himself referred to as 'the subject.' Bulma was diving off the scientific deep end again, it was time to just shut up and hang on.

"We need to create a new antivirus, or else this one will soon be completely negligible." Bulma glanced at her dad, then up at Yamcha. "Until then, we need to give the strongest dosage of what we have.." her eyebrows scrunched together as if she were working on some very tough equations in her head. "For now, it will have to be once a day."

"Once a day? Once a week was hard enough to remember!" Yamcha asked worriedly, breaking his own rule of silence.

"But you _have_ been taking it _every_ week, right?" Bulma stared suspiciously at the scar faced man.

"Yeah, yeah I take it every week. Sheesh, one time I forget to take it, and I never hear the end of it..." Yamcha said in a sheepish tone. He stared down at his feet as they dangled in the air.

"You didn't take it for a month, Yamcha." Bulma said in a reprimanding tone. "And you almost turned in the middle of the mall, remember that? Thankfully Goku was nearby and helped me get you back to the lab in time."

"Mmm…Thank Kame for Goku." Yamcha sarcastically muttered in agreement. He had found that time utterly embarrassing as well. Almost turning into "it" in a crowded shopping mall during Christmas, perfect timing on his part. He hadn't meant to skip his doses, but with the excitement of the holidays, it had all just gotten away from him. That had been three years ago, and he had not made the same mistake since.

"It's remarkable how the virus has decided to mutate now, after so many years." Dr. Brief's said, rubbing his chin, then taking a puff of the cigarette in his mouth. "By what the tests are telling me, the virus is still undergoing mutation, so we have a little time to try and create a new antivirus."

Standing up straight with a new look of determination in her eyes, Bulma declared "I'll start working on it pronto!" Yamcha could see the excitement of a new challenge light up her face, it was similar to Goku's look when he found a new, stronger opponent to fight. This little image made Yamcha smile, his spiky haired friend was something else. By the time he came back from his thoughts, Bulma was on the other side of the lab, rummaging through some files in a filing cabinet.

"My hypothesis is that the virus that courses through your veins, is a survivor." Dr. Brief's peered over his spectacles to the ex-desert bandit. "It will constantly change and mutate, so that it can continue to live. That is what it is doing now."

"But why now?" The young man asked.

"Who knows, viruses are mysterious creatures. Yes, I say creatures because there seems to be some aspect of self awareness, or self preservation, even in something so small." Taking a puff of his cigarette, still looking at the sheet of paper, the grey haired man seemed lost in thought, until he muttered "Looking back, we should have been watching it. We as scientists…" he paused, "we were too complacent."

"Well, he was dead for a good year so that makes it hard to run tests." Bulma said sarcastically, still rummaging for something in that void of a filing cabinet.

Yamcha continued to stare at his feet, then the floor, then back to his feet, he always felt slightly nauseous when the talked about _the virus_ , or really, _his virus_. He was grateful someone understood what had happened, and still was, happening to him. He was forever grateful to Bulma and Dr. Briefs for their creation of the antivirus that had stopped his transformations. For the last ' _What as it ten, or fifteen years?'_ he couldn't remember, but for that long he had been taking the antivirus weekly, in injection form. The injections had become normal to him, even the small pinch from the needle had disappeared long ago. Yamcha quietly chuckled to himself as he thought of the few times, when they were younger, Goku had walked into his room or rummaged through his bags, only to stumble across where he kept his syringes. It was unbelieveable how one of the world's strongest warriors was so terrified of a little, pointy steel rod. As Goku had grown older, the fighter had learned to stay away from Yamcha's stuff, unless he asked beforehand.

Who else knew? ' _Let's see, Puar, Bulma, Goku, Master Roshi...and Krillin.'_ They were the only ones who knew about his little secret. ' _Well, them and the Briefs.'_ Both of Bulma's parents took it quite well, her dating an ex bandit, with his particular issue. ' _Not a bad list for having it since I was nine.'_ Yamcha stated rather proudly to himself. An icy clang hit his stomach. That was stupid of him to be rejoicing in that. No matter how big or small the list, he was still cursed with it. He clenched his eyes shut, digging his fingers into the grey, faux leather infirmary bed he still sat on. He still had 'it.'

' _That was the only good thing about being dead.'_ He thought to himself. The issue had not carried over in death. Yamcha had hoped it would have disappeared for good when he was wished back to life by the Dragonballs, but tests confirmed that his body had been returned to its original 'before-death' state, evil virus and all. It made his stomach churn just thinking about it. He hated changing into 'it.' The pain was unimaginable, and before the shots, it was always so sudden. He remembered as a kid, the minute he felt he had the pattern down, it would change, catching him off guard. As if trying to make himself feel better ' _Sometimes I can control it, sometimes it goes away.'_

' _Like today.'_ A little voice spoke in his head. ' _But you almost lost it.'_ Fear shot through his heart like a bullet. The little voice inside his head was right.

He awoke from his daydreaming to find Dr. Briefs staring at him. The doctor had been mid sentence it appeared, saying something Yamcha had not heard a word of. Appearing satisfied with Yamcha's startled look, Dr. Brief's continued what he was saying.

"The virus has a cyclic pattern, monthly or every few months depending. It appears that the drastic increase in red blood cell lyses within the host is the warning sign that the virus's transformation stage is about to appear…"

Drifting back into his memories, Yamcha remembered how fearful he was when he decided to befriend Bulma and Goku. The young man had been on his own with Puar for so long for a reason. If his new friends saw him lose control, would they run in fear? Or kill him? At the time he wasn't sure which was worse.

"It appears the virus is becoming resistant to the current antiviral medications being administered, and is shifting into a new, hardier version of the one we first encountered..."

But only a month into their new friendship, Bulma and Goku had seen him change. The group of friends had been staying the night in a small remote village during their search for the Dragonballs. It was dark in the village when he had first felt the beast growling within him. Fearing for his friends, he had snuck out of the hut, and ran into the woods, trying to avoid any human contact. Unfortunately, unbeknownst to him, the bandit had woken the little warrior.

Yamcha had made it into the woods, he remembered stumbling over his feet as he began to crumple over from his body trying to change. Having fallen out of pain and panic, the young man had wedged himself up against a large tree, his arms wrapped around himself, as if trying to physically hold the beast in. Just before he lost his mind, he remembered glancing up at the opening in the woods. To his horror, Goku stood there. Sleepy eyes began to widen into what did not seem to be fear, but more curiosity. Yamcha had lost consciousness after that.

Shaking his head vigorously, as if his memories were an etch-a-sketch that could be shaken away, he brought himself back to the present. Sweat beaded down his face, and suddenly the lights in the room were too bright, and the smell of clorox and formaldehyde made him want to hurl. Now that he was back in the present, he heard the doctor still strumming on.

"...decreased immune response brought on by bacterial or viral infection, seems to have allowed for a more drastic increase of red blood cell lyses over a shorter period of time."

Yamcha noticed that Dr. Brief's was talking into a tape recorder now, and was slowly twirling a vile of blood between his fingers as he stared at some random point in the room. Realizing that someone was watching him again, Dr. Briefs took his thumb off the red record button and turned toward Yamcha. Smooshing the remnants of his cigarette in the ashtray, the doctor stood there motionless, his glasses gleamed as they reflected the hospital-like lighting.

"Do you understand what I have been saying, Yamcha? Does it make sense?"

Resting his elbow on his knee, he cupped his chin in his good hand. "Not really, but I take your word for it."

"Your transformations are brought on by a virus. Unlike Goku, whose transformations are due to genetics. His genetic makeup does not change or mutate. Yours on the other hand, does. When a virus mutates, antiviral medication that once worked on the old virus, will no longer have any effect on the newly mutated virus. That is what happened today. Your immune system was compromised from your illness, and due to the virus's mutation, it was able to gain a strong hold and you began to transform." Dr. Briefs peered at the the scar faced man mulling over the new information. He had always liked Yamcha, he was a good kid. He was always kind and helpful, not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but that did not bother him. Did he think man and his daughter were right for each other? Not really. Bulma was too strong headed, and ran Yamcha over most of the time. He loved his baby girl, but even he felt like she needed to be put in her place once in awhile. But that was for them to figure out, until then, he would watch the story play out on the side lines.

Stepping forward towards Yamcha, he continued to explain "If anything, this might have been a small blessing for it to have partially occurred. It was a warning but not a full out malfunction, so now we have time to fix it." He lit up another cigarette and placed the lighter back in his coat pocket. "I want you to take it easy for a few days. Let your body fight off the bug you've caught. No training, no fighting. Rest. We will begin daily dosages of the highest antiviral medication we currently have, until a new serum is created." Now in front of Yamcha, he patted him on the shoulder, peering up at the tall man. "We will need to run daily tests to monitor any changes."

Grabbing the vials of blood sitting on the stand next to the bed, Dr. Briefs walked over to where Bulma was intently working on her computer. He placed a few of the vials of blood in the centrifuge that was on a lab table near her desk, and turned it on. The whirring sound of the little machine was noticeable in the rather quiet room. The doctor then walked over to where his daughter sat, gave her a kiss on the head, and left the room.

Feeling his senses becoming overloaded by artificial light and formaldehyde again, he got up off the infirmary bed. A wave of what was either exhaustion or nauseousness washed over him.

Briefly pausing to get the marbles that had suddenly been unleashed inside his head to settle back down, he walked over to Bulma's desk. "I'm going to go lay down for a bit, okay?" He said in a low, worn out tone.

"Mmm mm. That's fine." She didn't even look up from the computer. She had her files piled up on one side of her desk, and a small single serve coffee maker already brewing the first pot of many for the evening.

Yamcha exited the lab, and started to wander down the hall. He was taking it slow, slightly leaning on the smooth hallway walls to make the trip to his room less exhausting.

"Stop right there, weakling." A voice from behind him said. Yamcha's heart sank. He really didn't need a confrontation with this bastard right now. He just wanted to sleep.

"Leave me alone Vegeta." Yamcha said, not turning around, trying to sound strong and confident, both of which he was utterly lacking right now. He continued to walk, picking up the pace the best he could.

"I'm curious about what happened earlier." The Prince suddenly materialized in front of him. He shoved his palm against Yamcha's chest and pushed him into the now ice cold wall.

"Get off me" Yamcha growled, batting away the alien's heavy hand.

Vegeta slammed the man against the wall like a rag doll. "Are you an Otsoa? Is that it? Tell me!" The Saiyan pressed the palm of his fist against the lesser humans chest. He could feel the man's heartbeat quicken with fear.

"What the hell are you talking about? This shit just happens to me! It's been that way since I was a kid, now let me go!" Yamcha mustered enough energy to quickly pull away from the Saiyan's grip, but he couldn't catch his balance in time and stumbled, barely catching himself on the wall. A searing pain went straight through his stomach as Vegeta's fist ground into his abdomen. Yamcha saw little bursts of starlight popping in his eyes as he crumpled to the ground.

Picking the man back up off the ground, Vegeta slammed him back against the wall. "Now listen here you pathetic excuse for a warrior, I know what I saw earlier, that was no ordinary human problem. Tell me what you are!" The smaller man growled as he brought his face closer to Yamcha's. The palm of his hand was pressed firmly against the human's chest, he could now feel the pounding heartbeat rattling against the rib cage.

Silently struggling for more air then the Prince's rough hand was allowing into his lungs, Yamcha finally sputtered "I-I don't know what it is…" he paused. "But if I did, I wouldn't tell you…" With the stupidest words he had ever said fresh from his idiotic lips, Yamcha stared straight into the eyes of the pissed off Saiyan. Vegeta's eyes were as black as tar, but seemed to have a fire roaring deep within. His lips curled into a vicious snarl, the type that reminded Yamcha of a dog, just before it attacked and shredded its prey. He felt the Prince begin to shift his weight in lieu of throwing another punch. Readying himself to block the oncoming attack, he suddenly heard Bulma approaching quickly from down the hall.

"Stop it! Both of you!" Bulma yelled stomping up the hallway. She had heard both the men's voices as she had exited the infirmary to grab something from another lab. When she had gone to see what was happening, she was startled to see Yamcha and Vegeta in a locked stance, both looking like they were about to kill each other.

"Break it up!" She shoved Vegeta as hard as she could to break him off Yamcha. Her effort barely phased Vegeta, but he relinquished his hold on the human anyway. Bulma put her arm up against the wall between the two, signaling the new barrier.

"Hm." Vegeta murmured as he stepped back from the pair. He crossed his arms and looked at the poofy haired woman. He didn't feel like arguing with her, and that voice made his ears want to bleed. He didn't believe what the weakling had said, there was something more to the story. But he needed to see the transformation, to make sure the man really was what he was suspecting. But how? Vegeta knew almost nothing about the Otsoa or what made their transformation occur. His memories of his father's meeting were of little use, since the scouting teams recollection had been the transformation had occurred suddenly for no reason. What had set the human off earlier? The fight? ' _Wait just a minute.'_ Vegeta thought to himself. He remembered the scouting team had said they had had a slight altercation with the native immediately before the incident occurred. Knowing Saiyans and their personalities, it was all subjective as to what they meant by "slight altercation." He continued to mull over his thoughts.

"Hello?! You alive in there? Bulma angrily knocked the Prince on the head. She was still standing there, one hand on her hip, the other pressed firmly against the wall.

"I heard you." The Prince said in an irritated tone. Without saying another word, he turned on his heels and marched off, ignoring the baffled girl and her male companion.

"What a jerk!" Bulma yelled in disbelief as she turned to Yamcha. "The nerve of that man!" She said fuming. She inadvertently began trying to straighten and unwrinkle his shirt violently as if she could iron out all the wrinkles with her hands.

"Okay, okay..." Yamcha chuckled in the warmest tone he could muster, gently taking both her hands and leading them away from his defenseless shirt collar. He peered down at Bulma and gave her a little smile. Inside he felt defeated, physically and now emotionally. He hated the fact that even if he hadn't already been sick and injured, he would not have stood a chance against Vegeta's confrontation. To make matters more embarrassing, his girlfriend had had to save him from the big bad Saiyan. He knew she meant well, but talk about an ego blow. It was just not his day. His headache had begun to wrack against his skull again, and he could swear his body was slightly trembling from exhaustion. Bulma escorted him to his room, helped him get undressed and into bed. She closed the door behind her and headed back to the lab where she had initially been headed.


	3. Chapter 3

He had accidentally slept through dinner that evening, and it was now 10:00 am the next morning. He sat up in bed, only to be greeted with a pounding headache, and incredibly powerful body aches. A part of him wanted to curl back up in bed and wallow in his misery, but he knew that wasn't going to make him feel any better. Besides, he might have been sick, but his appetite hadn't diminished. He quickly got dressed into some fresh clothes. A long sleeved black shirt and a pair of jeans, he was feeling a bit chilly. He then made his way downstairs to join the others for breakfast. When he arrived he saw Mrs. Briefs in the kitchen cooking her famous pancake stacks. There was what appeared to be a breakfast buffet laid out on the kitchen table. Yamcha took a seat next to Bulma who was reading some scientific journal about genetic mutation and gene adaptation. Vegeta sat across from him at the table, immersed in his own thoughts, stuffing as much food as he possibly could into his mouth. Yamcha grimaced at the Saiyans eating habits and appetite, it was only kind of bearable with Goku, but that was because Goku was so damn innocent and naive about it. Coming from this one was just revolting table quickly looked away from the gruesome scene. Dr. Briefs sat at the kitchen island reading the newspaper, peering over it now and again to sneak a peek at his beautiful wife.

"You're still not feeling great are you?" Bulma said in a sweet, concerned tone. Yamcha's face was flushed pink with fever, she brushed some of his hair out of his eyes. All her anger towards him from the day before had disappeared. Their fight seemed so miniscule now next to what was going on.

"Yeah, but I'll be better by tomorrow. Just a cold." He stated confidently to her. Didn't she understand that he needed to look tough in front of Vegeta? The sick little man persona was not the most intimidating. Getting up, he went to the couch in the living room and stretched out on it. "I'll just take it easy today, I'm already feeling better."

"Hmpf, another problem with you puny humans. Your immune systems are crap. A Saiyan rarely, if ever succumbs to an illness." Vegeta commented between mouthfuls of breakfast.

Bulma glared at the Saiyan. He shrugged and looked back at his food, unconcerned, he continued to chow down.

"Yamcha, we will need to take another blood sample shortly, say around lunchtime?" Dr. Briefs said, still gazing at his newspaper.

"Sounds like a plan to me, I'll be here." He stared up at the sleek ceiling above him. He could still see that ugly ficus from the bottom corner of his eye.

"Well me and Dad are going to be working in the lab today, so if you need us, just get one of the robots to come get us." Bulma and her Dad got up and left the room. Mrs. Briefs finished cooking her pancakes, stacked them on a plate and placed them in front of Vegeta.

"I'm going to the mall, you boys need anything while I'm out? Maybe some tea?" Mrs. Briefs asked both men in her sweet soft voice.

"Hmpf." Vegeta said through his stacks of pancakes.

"Thanks Mrs. Briefs, I think we're good." Yamcha said from the couch. He heard her leave the kitchen. He stretched out on the couch, closed his eyes, and began to drift into sleep.

Forty-five minutes into his nap, Yamcha felt a nudge on his leg. "Get up." He heard a voice say. He rolled over on the couch, back facing any oncoming intruder to convey the message that he did not want to be disturbed. "Get up!" His leg was yanked hard and he flew onto the living room floor.

"What the…?!" Yamcha yelled as he lept up. A wave of dizziness washing over him as he did so. His vision blurred for a moment, but he could make out the figure in front of him. Short in stature, with black, upward spiking hair. His royal pain-in-the-ass. "What the hell is your problem Vegeta!" he said angrily, clenching his good fist and bracing himself in a fighting stance.

"I want to see it." The Prince said sternly, his unwavering gaze looked like a wolf about to pounce on its prey..

"Wha...? See what?" Yamcha's mouth went slightly agape, staring at the Prince in complete

bewilderment.

"What happened yesterday. The complete transformation. I want to see it."

The tenacity of the Saiyan Prince was remarkable, and beyond irritating. The man just couldn't let things lie. Yamcha suddenly became very aware of the predicament he was in. Bulma and her family were nowhere to be seen, he would have to yell pretty freaking loud to get them to hear him from down in the labs. By the time he did that, Vegeta would have already crushed his throat in. His eyes darted from right to left, he needed an escape route. An icy cold froze his body in place when he saw more clearly, the way the other man was looking at him.

With one swift stroke Vegeta planted a fist into Yamcha's stomach. Still bruised from the assault the day before, the pain discharged through his body like an electric taser, grabbing at his throat and choking him. Unable to get a breath in, he collapsed to the floor, clenching his stomach. Vegeta slammed his elbow into the back of his head. Yamcha's face smashed against the cool tile floor. He couldn't tell if it was the tile or his cheekbone, but something cracked loudly.

"Come on, I don't have all day" Vegeta growled as he pulled Yamcha up by his hair. As he went to throw another gut punch, Yamcha suddenly broke free of his grip.

"Screw you Vegeta!" A surge of energy broke free from inside the human and he punched his spiky haired assailant right in the face, sending him flying across the room. In the pile of brick and sheetrock, Vegeta stared at the human in shock and confusion. He hadn't been expecting the man to be able to hit that hard.

Standing in what was once the Briefs living room, the deep growl began to tickle its way up his throat. _'Come on, not now, not now.'_ Yamcha thought to himself. His ki begin to coarse through his body without request. ' _No, please, no. I don't want this_ ' he thought to himself as he shut his eyes tightly. His body began to tremble.

Dusting himself off from the rubble, Vegeta stared at Yamcha. He could see the panic written on the man's face. He could now feel his ki fluctuating rapidly. "Let it go." Vegeta said, watching the quaking man.

The bones in his body felt as if they were beginning to splinter. His airways were constricting, and his chest felt like the gravity had increased tenfold. Where was the exit? _'The door, I need to get to the door.'_ The surrounding background noise was rising in his ears. _'I need to get out of here.'_ The aromas of the kitchen and outdoors were mixing together into a sickly concoction. The scent of his own blood was coming from the fresh cuts and scrapes the Prince had just opened.

Smiling, Vegeta beckoned "Yes, that's it, let it out."

Sensing that the Prince might try and stop his exit, Yamcha quickly fired a ki blast against the wall where the Saiyan still stood.

"What the!?" Vegeta yelled out as the blast threw more rubble and debris into the living room. His vision was hindered momentarily, and for that brief second, Yamcha made his escape through the sliding glass door.

Through the door and onto the Capsule Corp. lawn he ran. His legs were carrying him as fast as he could fly, which was not normal. Not normal at all. Before he knew it he had crossed several busy streets, through multiple strip malls, and was now in the middle of West City Central Park. In the large metropolis, the park was the safest haven for him to try and hide. There were large stretches of densely wooded areas that he was hoping not many people were exploring in the middle of a week day. The severe spasming of his all his muscles made him finally collapse at the foot of a large tree. _'This scene feels familiar'_ he thought to himself sarcastically. ' _Shut up, not helping.'_ He firmly pressed his forehead into the malleable soil, his fingers intertwined in his hair, alternating between pressing into his skull to ease the pain, to trying to rip his hair out. The feeling of acid running down his throat had him gasping for air, he felt his body growing. His eyes were burning in his skull, he began to get flashes of images that he had tried so hard to forget.

 _He was in his room. The bedroom door was open and there was the faint glow of candlelight illuminating the doorway. The smell of pine trees inundated his senses. That smell could only be found near his childhood home. The amazing little home that lay at the edge of the_ _Aokigahara forest and_ _Diablo Desert._

Pain seared down his spine, he reared back out of the dirt, and slammed his back against the trunk of the tree, still grasping his head.

 _He heard voices. His mom and dad. But there was another voice. It sounded wrong. Insane. He began to get out of bed and walk towards the voices in the living room, he could hear an argument. Things that sounded like dishes were breaking in the kitchen. He pushed the door completely open to see what was happening._

 _Both his parents were backed against the kitchen counter, his father's arm stretched across his wife in a guarded stance. His father, who Yamcha had an uncanny resemblance to, especially when he grew out his hair, had a look Yamcha had never seen on him before, fear. His beautiful mother, her long brown hair falling every which way, was hiding behind her husband, trying to find some kind of kitchen utensil to defend themselves with._

 _At first, the only thing he could see was the monster's back, as it faced his parents. It was human, but its hair was a dark maroon and flowed wildly, as if it were made of snakes. Its hands were larger than normal, with long claws extending from its fingertips. It had no weapons, just those claws. The stranger wore a hunter green coat and black pants. He had no shoes. Like his hands, the man's feet were irregularly large, with claws lining his digits._

 _His father, taking his eyes off the intruder momentarily, realized his son had awoken from his bedroom."Yamcha! Run! Get out of here!" Panicked, the man instinctively took a step toward his boy, trying to protect him as well._

 _The monster stood between the boy and his father in the candlelit living room. Taking the man's movements as a sign of aggression, the monster let out a beastly snarl and lunged at the two adults with incredible speed. The beast's claws quickly lacerated the man's throat first. Yamcha's mother let out a blood curdling scream. Quickly, her throat was splayed open like her husband's. Both his parents slowly sank to the floor, struggling for their last few breathes before stillness took over. The young boy stood at his bedroom door frozen. Watching the crimson colored crime scene play out. Blood was everywhere. It had sprayed onto the backsplash of the kitchen walls, the cabinets, it was pooled on the floor around the bodies._

"Oh Kame make it stop." He groaned from the emotional agony as well as physical. These were memories he had long suppressed. He was passed this, he didn't want to go back and relive this. He felt his bones reaching their breaking point..

 _Blood pooled and stained the wood floor where his parents collapsed. The monster's talons were sharper than a surgeon's scalpels. It happened so fast._

 _The child let out a faint cry. He quickly covered his mouth, but it was too late. The creature turned and faced him. He was grinning. There was a crazed looked in those yellow eyes. All his teeth were chiseled to points. Hair oddly sprouted from various places on the man's face. The man's wild maroon locks seemed to be growing longer as the minutes flew by._

" _Wrong place, wrong time kid." The monster said to him. Yamcha took a step back towards his room. In a wavering voice the man said "Do you know what it feels like to be tortured and broken by yourself? The pain...the pain…it will drive you crazy eventually. Yes. Yes, it will." The monster stared at the terrified child. A quivering, psychotic chuckle began to emanate from the man. "I have to kill, I have to, you see? I can't help it. It's literally, in my blood. I can't stop it." As if his puppet master had loosened the grip on his strings, the man's head and upper body drooped, his long, dangling arms almost touching the floor. Maroon locks and shadow covered his face, but Yamcha could feel the evil smile on the monster's face, still hearing the raspy chuckle. There was_

 _an eerie sound of something in the man snapping. Pop, creeaak...pop. The man let out a whimpering cry between laughs. A tune quietly began to creep its way through the deathly still cabin. In the same tune as the popular nursery rhyme london bridge is falling down, the man quietly began chanting "Break my bones, and snap their necks, snap their necks, snap their necks. Break my bones and snap their necks, my fair lady." The man began to grow taller as he chanted, and his arms grew longer and more fur grew from his knuckles and feet. Suddenly, he looked at Yamcha, and his face appeared more wolf-like, its snout lengthening and allowing the rows of sharp teeth to look more at home in their new environment. He was still human, but he was changing. The frightened child was unable to move a muscle, he couldn't make his legs work to run, and he couldn't make his lungs work to scream._

" _I will take you before I go!" The man lunged at the young boy. Panicked, Yamcha raised his arm to protect his face. There he felt the sharp fangs sink into his arm._

He startled himself from his memories by hearing his own scream. The pain came rushing back like a title wave as he came back to reality. Glimpsing at his body he could tell he was almost gone. It would all soon be over. Still in the park, he looked up at the trees above him. Watching the tree limbs above sway with the breeze allowed for a momentary calm. The green and yellow colors began to swirl around in his vision like a kaleidoscope; before he knew it, he fell back down the rabbit hole.

 _A gunshot rang out, and the fangs receded from his arm. Timidly opening his eyes, Yamcha saw the crazed man lying at his feet, with a bullet hole in the side of his head. Slowly, he looked toward where the gunshot had sounded from, to see a man at the door, holding a smoking rifle._

 _It was the neighbor from next door. A big burly man, he had heard unusual noises coming from the house and had come to check. The man had seen the gruesome scene that lay inside the home. The blood that seeped from the parents bodies in the kitchen had made its way to the center of the living room. There he saw the man with his jaws latched onto the boy's arm. Without hesitation the man had shot the creature in the head._

 _The man ran to Yamcha and kneeled down beside him. He grasped the boy's arm and examined the multiple puncture wounds that were oozing blood. With a sad but relieved smile, the man took the shocked boy in his arms. Holding him tightly, he tried to avert the boy's gaze from wandering over to where his parents lay._

 _For a few months after his parent's murders, the neighbor man had been Yamcha's savior. He had taken him in, fed him, clothed him, and treated him like his own son. Yamcha came to love the man as if he were a second father. Then 'it' happened for the first time. He had killed the only person left in the world that cared about him. Murdered him just like the lunatic had his parents. He was no better than that monster. Horrified with what he had done, he had run off into the Diablo Desert, hoping that there he could live out his life in seclusion, away from anyone fragile enough for him to hurt._

The memories spun inside his head at a sickening rate. A low humming sound began to overwhelm his senses, his ki was surging to an uncomfortable height. Then it all stopped.

Silence. Painlessness. Darkness. Moments drifted by, then he heard a forest bird sing out. Slowly, he opened his eyes. This time, there was no pain to welcome him back to reality. He looked down, patting his abdomen to check and make sure he was real. Everything was fine. He felt his face where he thought Vegeta might have fractured his cheekbone. Nothing. The broken arm that he had come into the woods with, was now healed. No bruises, nothing.

A smile began to stretch across his face. It was over. He was okay. Somehow he must have suppressed it, which was shocking at the state he had gotten to. He let out a huge sigh of relief and fell back onto the tree trunk. It was a beautiful day. Finally, he got up, dusted himself off, and figured he should probably be getting back to Capsule Corp. Then a picture of Vegeta flashed in his mind, and he flinched at the thought of having to deal with him again so soon.

' _I think I'll just take a trip into town instead. I'm already here, I''m just gonna take a break from those guys for a bit.'_ With that, he put both his hands in his pockets, and began to stroll towards town. He was feeling really good. It seemed that even his fever had gone away.

' _Maybe I'll get Bulma some flowers, that might cheer her up.'_ Walking out of the thicket of trees he was greeted by a blast of cool, fresh air. Taking a deep breath in, he was happily surprised how well he could smell all the flowers in the park. The birds were singing, and the sunlight felt amazing on his skin. He slowly walked into town, taking his time to enjoy his surroundings. He watched as people walked past him, some were shopping, some were with their kids playing in the park, and some were just out enjoying the day as he was.

The flower shop was booming with color, so much it almost made Yamcha's eyes hurt. They had big displays of red and pink roses, big yellow sunflowers, and various colors of chrysanthemums in front of the store. As he approached the store door, he suddenly heard what sounded like glass shatter. Looking both directions down the street, he tried to find the source of the noise, but there was nothing. Shrugging the oddity off, he walked into the store. In the store, he decided on a large assortment of flowers that smelled amazing, and that he thought Bulma would love. The cashier of the shop was a bit odd and quiet, but Yamcha thought nothing of it. He paid the man, and walked back out onto the street.

For some reason he still had the strong urge to stay away from Capsule Corp. The flowers would last a little while without water, so he decided to continue venturing into the city. This time he heard the rumbling of a building collapsing. The choking smell the dust from the debri filled his nose and airways. Looking around, he still couldn't see where it was coming from. He closed his eyes and searched for nearby power levels. Nothing. Oddly enough, he couldn't find Vegeta's even in the distance. Maybe the Prince was practicing keeping his power levels hidden. Though the situation was strange, Yamcha was pleasantly not bothered with it. For once he was not worried or stressed about the safety of humanity, and just wanted to keep wandering.

A few minutes passed. The city was abnormally quiet of its normal background calamity. Wandering from street to street, avenue to avenue, Yamcha suddenly heard a woman scream reverberate through the air. He knew he had heard something real that time, and began to pick up his pace to where he had heard the scream. Another scream, or was it screams? They seemed to by multiplying at an alarming rate. He continued searching for the source.

' _Where are they coming from? Why can't I sense anything?'_ A tiny glimmer of panic began to rise in him. He heard another building collapse. Something wasn't right. Why couldn't he find where it was coming from? The city wasn't that big. At this point, he had drop the flowers and was in a flat out run. The screams were becoming more frequent. The smell of dust and rubble filled his nostrils. A pungent copper scent began to take center stage in the mixture. It became strong enough that he could taste it. Blood. That was blood. He wasn't sure if any of this was real, or if maybe he was just going mad.

He paused for a moment to get a grip on his surroundings. His heart was leaping up and down in his chest. Where was everyone? Something was going down somewhere in the city, and he couldn't sense Vegeta, Goku, Krillin, anyone! Something moved in the corner of his eye. The sky. Was there a crack in the sky? He focused his eyes to the serene blue above him, hoping he was just hallucinating. But unfortunately and undoubtedly, there was a large crack forming in the sky with several little cracks radiating from it.

' _What's going on?'_ Yamcha turned from the growing crack in the sky, to the sound of another building collapsing. Looking at a tall business building that loomed in front of him, he saw a crack beginning to form. It started to grow and fragment faster than the one above. The building crumbled to dust in front of him. He looked around, readying himself for the mass panic that was sure to take place any minute from the crowd of people walking the streets.

People were still acting like they had been before. Shopping, playing in the park. They did not seem to be experiencing the same thing that Yamcha was. Shocked and dumbfounded, he grabbed a lady who was walking by. "Excuse me, miss?" He held the woman at arm's length and looked her straight in the eyes. Shock and fear clanged through the warrior's body. Her eyes. The lady's eyes were vacant. Her glossy eyes just stared ahead, right through him. Little cracks began to form between her eyebrows, like a china doll that had been dropped. As he stared at her, the cracks spread across her face.

To Yamcha's embarrassment, he let out a quiet high pitched yelp and let the lady go. To make things even creepier than they already were, the lady continued to walk the same line she had been before he grabbed her.

Now utterly freaked out, he ran to another person on the other side of the road. Grabbing a man in a business suit this time, he looked at the face. Blank, expressionless, and those cracks.

"What the hell!?" Yamcha jumped back. He tried to send a ki blast through the drone-like man. Nothing. He tried to gather any ki to power up. Nothing. He couldn't find his ki. He had been enjoying himself so much before, he hadn't even noticed that he was missing his ki. Panic completely took over. No saiyans, buildings collapsing, weird noises, cracks everywhere? Creepy drone people walking around, now no ki?

The earth groaned and rumbled as it began to crack underneath him. The sounds of buildings collapsing and large objects splitting apart filled the air. He couldn't fly. He started to run, leaping between the spreading cracks in the pavement. Yamcha darted between collapsing buildings, ducking as beams swung through the air; dodging large chunks of debris. Stepping on a large slab of pavement, it suddenly gave way. The chasm ahead of him had grown too quickly, and he couldn't jump to firm ground. He grasped at the air, but all he grabbed was loose rocks. The sensation of falling began to take over, when suddenly something very hard hit him on the head. Everything went black.


	4. Chapter 4

There were people around him talking, though he couldn't make out what they were saying. He tried to open his eyes, but there was an incredibly bright light that was making it painfully difficult. Finally, his eyes adjusted to the fluorescent lights above, and he was able to fully see where he was.

A hospital. In a hospital bed to be precise. The reason why he couldn't move his body? Most of it was in a cast. To his surprise, his friends were in the room with him. Goku was sitting in a chair by the wall talking to Bulma, and Krillin was standing near the bedside. To his not so pleasant surprise, Vegeta was there too, eyes closed, arms crossed, standing in a corner of the room.

"W-what's going on?" Was all he could voice. His throat was really dry, it was as if he hadn't had a drink in days.

"Hey! You're awake!" Krillin said in a happy tone. "How ya feel'in?"

"Yamcha!" Bulma got up and stood by his bed side.

"Water…"

"Oh sure! I'll go ask a nurse for some!" Krillin ran out to the hall of the hospital ward to flag down a nurse.

Goku approached the bed. "Hey buddy, how you feel'in'?" Goku tilted his head and let out a little smile. "Sorry about the hospital stay, Yajirobe hasn't gotten the new crop of sensu beans in just yet." Yamcha felt a twinge of concern as to why his friend was acting so sweet and not acting his normal happy child-like self. Granted, he was also concerned as to why he was in the hospital in the first place, he couldn't remember a thing.

Krillin came back in with a cup of water. "Here you go. This should help some."

Yamcha realized he only had use of one arm again. The other was frozen in place by a cast that ran along his torso and down both legs. Bulma clicked a little remote on the side of his bed that made it raise him up some, so that he could drink. He took the small plastic cup Krillin handed him and raised it to his parched lips. The liquid brilliance of the cool water was something else.

Finally able to think somewhat again, Yamcha looked at his friends. "Guys...What happened?" His concern grew as his saw his friends expressions.

"Well, uh...where to begin." Krillin nervously looked at Goku. Bulma just kept her head tilted towards the floor.

"Well...you see…" Goku scratched his head. "Well, it started...hm. We had to...uh." The warrior stuttered as he tried to find his words.

"For Kame's sake Kakarott, just say it." Vegeta snapped from the corner of the room. He glared at Yamcha. "You went all wolf man on us, went ballistic and went on a killing spree in the city before Kakarott and I were able to stop you." Vegeta looked at Goku. "See? Was that so difficult?"

Goku shot Vegeta a disapproving look, then peered down at his friend who was lying there trying to understand what had happened to him.

Yamcha was confused. "W-what are you talking about?" A pounding in his skull had him place his good hand up to rub his temple. _When did this happen?_ He realized his head was wrapped with a bandage, and underneath there was a bruise that was very tender. He had been fine. Something had happened in West City, but he was in the accident, not the reason for it. His friends, seeing the upset building, jumped to trying to comfort him.

"But it's going to be okay, we can wish everyone back with the Dragonballs! Gohan is already out collecting them so we can summon Shenron." Goku tried consoling his friend.

Still rubbing a less tender spot on his temple, Yamcha shakily asked "How...how long have I been here?"

"Three days." Krillin chimed in.

' _I was out for three days? What in the hell happened there?_ Yamcha turned to Krillin. "What about the cracks? The drone people? The entire city was collapsing." Suddenly remembering, he shot a look at both Goku and Vegeta. "And where the hell were you two?"

Everyone just stared at him in confusion. The awkward silence was deafening. Krillin reached out and gingerly held his hand in the cast. "Yamcha, buddy. What are you talking about? None of that happened." The little bald man looked at his long time friend with pity in his eyes.

"Yes it did. I was there!" Yamcha angrily said. "I was just walking around town. I got Bulma some flowers, I heard what sounded like buildings collapsing, people were screaming, and before I knew it, all hell broke loose!" He closed his eyes and cupped his head in his good hand as the headache seared through his brain from his emotions rising. "I didn't turn into it. I know I didn't. I was fine." He felt hot tears begin to well up in his eyes. Quickly, he turned away from his friends.

No one knew how to proceed next. Their friend was obviously delusional through the entire ordeal, but they were unsure how to make him understand that.

Quietly, Goku finally broke the silence. "Let me try and start from the beginning. Three days ago, about mid-day, I felt your ki spike from all the way over at my house. I knew it was you, but it was different from your regular ki signature. I knew it as the same ki as when you transformed in the woods when I was a kid."

Yamcha, getting his emotions under control gave Goku a look of concern. When he had transformed in the woods long ago in front of Goku, he had been away from other people. At the time, his transformed state had been stronger than little Goku, and he had unintentionally hurt him before the young warrior understood that he needed to stay away until his friend hopefully returned to normal. That time the curse had run its course. Secretly, Goku and Bulma had carefully watched him wander and hunt in the woods, making sure no one came close. After that, Bulma began working on a cure, or at least something to stop the transformations.

Goku nodded as if to agree with what Yamcha was thinking. "You were bigger than I remember, stronger too. Maybe it's because you've grown and become a stronger fighter." Pausing for a moment to gather his thoughts, the Saiyan grew a stern look on his face. "By the time I got to the city, you had already done some damage. Vegeta was already there trying to stop you." Goku turned and looked at Vegeta. The Prince nodded in agreement.

Yamcha glanced over at Vegeta, he wasn't fond of the fact that the Prince had seen his transformation. The painkillers had been wearing off, and his body was beginning to rebuke the carelessness of not providing it more. But Yamcha held off from the morphine drip, he wanted his mind to stay clear so he could understand what had happened. Painfully, he looked back at Goku. "So I did change."

Goku and Krillin both nodded. Their friend was beginning to understand.

"What else?" He laid back on his pillow and readied himself for the answer, it was easier to stare up at the tile ceiling then strain himself to look at them. The creature he transformed into was nothing two Saiyans couldn't take care of, his body's screams were evidence of that. He was worried about what happened between the time he turned and the time they took him down.

"When I got to the scene, you were in the process of throwing a car into a building. Vegeta wasn't able to get the car before it hit the building." Goku paused, his brows furrowed at the unpleasant memory. "There were people in both the car and the building, I'm not sure how many made it out of that one. I had tried to get your attention by throwing a few ki blasts your way. I was hoping to lure you out of the city that way. It didn't work. The creature must have some defensive power, because it absorbed the blast as if it were nothing. Vegeta and I had to resort to more physical means to get you to stop destroying the city." He nodded in the direction of the body cast. "I'm sorry we had to hurt you so bad. It took more force than I expected to get you to revert back to you. By the time we did, there wasn't much time, so we rushed you here."

The pieces of the puzzle were beginning to fall into place. What he had thought in the woods was him suppressing the transformation, must had been some kind of hallucination to allow the other side of him out. It had all seemed so real. "What about a floral shop?" Yamcha asked in a hollow tone. From the corner of his eyes he could see both Goku and Vegeta's faces twitch at the question.

Goku shaking his head. "I don't think we need to…"

"That was a bad sight even for my eyes." Vegeta growled from the back corner. "Why do you ask?

So he had gone to a floral shop, it was just that the hallucinations had changed the setting to keep his human mind at ease. Feeling his heart ache at the weight of the news of what he had done "No reason" was all he could say.

Still in his corner, the Prince continued. "It was quite an impressive sight. The beast is not completely animalistic, you walked on your hind legs, but had the appearance of a wolf-man hybrid. A true Otsoa." Vegeta said with a small smile playing on his lips. "I never thought I would see a real one, but my, you are a real one alright."

Yamcha couldn't muster the energy to ask what the Saiyan was talking about. He had never heard of an Otsoa. Why would he call him that? This was just a virus he had been forced to bear at a young age.

Bulma, seeing the aggravation and confusion in Yamcha's face suddenly raised her head and joined in the conversation. "While we have been waiting for you to wake up, Vegeta happened to mention he had heard stories of another race that has the same characteristics as you do. Supposedly they transform without the ability to control themselves, and when they are in their beast state they…" Bulma hesitated.

"Have an unquenchable bloodlust." Muttered Vegeta from the corner.

"I think it could be what that man was who did this to you…" She said sympathetically "The virus must be transferrable through the bite of someone who's infected."

"So there's more of them?" Yamcha let out a groan. He really needed that morphine, if they could all just hurry it up a bit.

"There are. But it's almost a myth at this point. Otsoa are seen so few and far between, most mothers only tell their children the story to scare them into being good." Vegeta shifted in the corner. "I never heard about how you become an Otsoa, I had no idea it was transferable in that way. As bad as the symptoms are, if I had to guess, I would say most of them probably kill themselves off before transferring it to someone else."

"And I just got the crazy one." Yamcha sarcastically murmured. He was beginning to fade in and out. Exhaustion and pain were winning the battle against sleep. Remembering something from earlier in the conversation, Yamcha asked. "You said Gohan was getting the Dragonballs. Why?"

His friends paused again, unsure of whether he had been understanding the entire conversation up to that point. Krillin quietly said "Yamcha, there were a lot of people…"

"You slaughtered them. Got it?" Vegeta snapped from the corner again. "Maimed, dismembered, shredded. Men, women, and children. Something Frieza would be proud of."

"Vegeta!?" Goku exclaimed.

"It's the truth, I don't know why you all are trying to sugar coat it." The Prince readjusted himself into the corner.

' _A lot of people? How? They must have stopped me before I could do too much._

"Look, we did stop you from tearing the whole city apart. But there were a lot of buildings that you were able to destroy, between trying to stop you and not kill you, we just weren't able to get everyone out in time" Krillin said with a sympathetic look as he patted his friend's hand gently.

The guilt of what had happened began to weigh too heavily on his chest. He had lost control. Killing hundreds of innocent people. Anger and self loathing began to envelope him. All he could do was slowly shake his head, trying to stop the war that began to rage in his head. He felt himself being pulled backwards into his mind, little dots of black began to pop into his vision.

"Okay, guys, I think that's enough for right now. Let's let him rest a bit shall we?" Bulma said, looking at her pale boyfriend with a concerned expression.

Goku nodded his head. Placing a comforting hand on Yamcha's shoulder. "It will be alright." The Saiyan could only imagine the pain and heartbreak his friend must be enduring. To lose total control of one's self and actions, and to be such a destructive force during it, that would be a hard cross to bare. It would take some time, but with reviving everyone who had died, and with the new antidote Bulma said she had created, Goku knew his friend would get through this incident. With that, the earth's savior walked out of the room.

Bulma turned off the lights and waved for Vegeta and Krillin to exit the room as well. Before closing the door, she turned to Yamcha "Get some rest okay? I'll be back soon." The closing door took with it the little bit of light that remained in the room.

Yamcha felt numb. He just stared at the ceiling of his hospital room in the dark. His body felt stiff from being in the bed and the cast. His joints creaked as he tried to reposition himself.

A woman's screams suddenly rang in his ears. He quickly looked around. The room was still empty, and the hallway that lay beyond the door remained silent. The voice had been in his head. Another scream. _'Please, please help! Someone help us!'_ the voice echoed, a recent haunting memory. He closed his eyes and tried to shake the voice from inside his head. Crimson splashes dotted the black landscape behind his eyes. Quickly opening his eyes again, he saw something like a burnt imprint in front of him. A woman kneeling in rubble, screaming, holding on to a man that lay in her arms. There was smoke and debris all around, and she was covered in dust and blood. The woman's screams grew louder and more blood curdling. The heart monitor he was hooked up to began to chirp as it danced to the rhythm of his ever quickening heart beat.

A nurse came running into the room. The injured patient lay in the bed covered in sweat, and trembling from what appeared to be some form of panic attack. The nurse placed her hand on his shoulder trying to calm him. Unsure of what was reality and what were his hallucinations, he jerked away at the unfamiliar touch, the nurse heard the plaster cast crack.

"Sir, sir, I'm going to need you to relax." She said as she pushed the button to call in another nurse.

Flashes of blood covered kitchens swirled into pictures of blood soaked floral shops. There were bodies strewn around. Their cold, dead stares pierced his mind. The screams echoed in the hallways of his mind.

Finally, the screams began to die down, the visions became blurrier, and his heartbeat began to slow down. Sleep began to embrace him as the nurses took the tranquilizing needle from his vein.

"Do you think he's gonna be alright?" Krillin said as he peered at Bulma, then back at the gooey, indiscernible objects on his dinner tray that were trying to pass as food.

Bulma nodded her head. "I created a new antivirus that should last for a long time." Empathy and sadness came over her, she turned and looked out the window of the hospital's cafeteria. "Psychologically, however, I don't know how he's going to do. Yamcha doesn't even like hurting people, let alone killing people."

"You get use to it. The strong survive and the weak crumble." Vegeta said, hitting the hospital vending machine that was holding his soda hostage.

Bulma looked over at the Saiyan. "Something tells me he doesn't have the same resolve towards that sort of thing as you do Vegeta."


	5. Chapter 5

_There were sharp, gleaming talons radiating from his fingertips. His hands had become large and calloused; his olive colored tan had turned dark charcoal. Black and grey hair covered the tops of his hands and made its way up his arms further than he could see._

 _He was on the sidewalk in downtown West City. It was sunny, but swirling thunder clouds were forming in the distance, the cooler blue and purple tones lapped at the edges of the scene, unable to penetrate the sunlight. Yamcha was watching the scenes from the back of the perpetrators mind. He could see everything they saw, but had absolutely no control._

 _The floral shop he had been in earlier was dead ahead. The reflective storefront glass caught his attention as he walked closer. There was something big in the reflection, taller than the entryway by at least a foot. He saw black fur covering a muscular shoulder. Before he could get a better look, he entered the store. Entered was a nice way of putting it. The body smashed through the front door, glass shattered across the store's floor._

 _The first screams began. They were from two female customers and a male store clerk. They looked straight at him and screamed in terror. Yamcha was taken aback with the situation himself. He wasn't sure what they saw from their point of view, but he had never gotten a reaction like that before even when he did accidently smash into places._

 _But this was not accidental, he just wasn't in control. The talons that he had seen coming from the calloused hands earlier, reached out without warning and flawlessly slit both women's throats; questioning eyes locked onto him as they fell to the floor. Horrified, Yamcha tried to summon some ability to stop the body, but there was no response._

 _Next, he felt himself turning to face the store clerk. The clerk now held a pistol in his trembling hands, and to Yamcha's surprise he actually shot. The bullet struck his chest with enough pressure for him to notice, however, aside from that, only a mild sting persisted._

 _The body lunged at the clerk, placing one large paw on the man's head, the other on his shoulder. To Yamcha's sickening understanding of what was about to happen, the monster split the two body parts away from each other, snapping the man's neck like a twig._

 _Yamcha could feel the blood splatter on his face. He tried to yell out in disgust but he had no voice. The neck wound was grotesque. Yamcha watched as the man fell broken on the floor. A life ripped apart for no reason. Three minutes, three horrid minutes was how long it took to kill those three people._

 _The body lept onto the clerk's desk and broke through the window behind the counter, back onto the street. During the escape, a mirror in the far corner of the floral shop allowed Yamcha to see a glimpse of the murderer. It was a massive creature. Its eyes had an eerie yellow glow to them. They were void of emotions or thoughts. Its eye sockets held the same charcoal tone as the hands, and were larger than the eyes they held. Black and grey hair covered the ridges of the eye sockets, around the jaws, and down around a large muzzle. There were four massive canines protruding from the mouth of the beast, two on the bottom and two on the top. Opening its jaws ever so slightly allowed for the viewer to see the multiple rows of smaller fangs glistening from its pink gums._

 _The body stood upright, and took a humanoid shape but with more pronounced musculature and a lot more fur. Its ears were large and twitched ever so slightly, picking up on sounds in the background. Looking back up at the eyes, Yamcha noticed a horrible little detail he had originally missed._

' _That scar.' In the reflection, the beast had a long, longitudinal scar etched across its right eye, a very unique and distinguishable feature they both shared._

 _The realization that the body he was in and who he was were in fact the same, made a hole in his stomach large enough for him to fall into. He felt panic and anger reeling around him, wrapping him in cold, strangling chains._

"No!" Yamcha cried in despair. The chains were around him, choking him. For some reason he couldn't move his body, he began to fight to regain control. He felt claws tearing at his chest and shoulders, he cried out trying to get away.

"Sir! Sir! I need you to calm down! Marcy, I need 2.5 milligrams of Haloperidol, now!" The senior nurse dodged Yamcha's arm as it swung around to prevent his assailant from continuing. As the nurse Marcy was prepping the I.V. of sedative, a male nurse rushed in to try and help restrain the delirious patient. The nurse grabbed Yamcha's free arm and wrapped it in the fabric restraints. To the man's complete disbelief, Yamcha easily snapped the fabric as he pulled his arm free. Finally, Marcy got the sedative ready and they quickly sedated their patient.

Hearing the ruckus, Bulma and Krillin ran into the hospital room where their friend now lay sedated and sleeping.

"What happened?" Bulma asked the senior nurse.

"It appears he had another panic attack while he was asleep. I am going to talk to the doctor in the morning about prescribing him an anti-anxiety medication for the time being. This was his second large panic attack in less than 24 hours."

Bulma looked over to her boyfriend, but more importantly, one of her best friends. He lay in the hospital bed currently at peace, but even under sedation the worry and stress lines on his face were apparent. She feared for his mental stability.

Krillin, noticing the sadness written on Bulma's face as she stared at Yamcha, tried to comfort her. "Hey, it will be alright Bulma, Yamcha's tough, he can handle it."

"I'm not so sure about that Krillin. Yamcha's transformations have only ever hurt one person before, and that was hard enough on him. I'm not sure how well he's going to handle this."

"But the Dragonballs Bulma, they can all be wished back." Bulma turned to her friend as he spoke those words, as if giving him the you-know-it's-more-than-that look. Slouching in agreement, "Yeah I know, that's not the point. Killing that many innocent people takes a toll on someone like us."

Once Yamcha was released from the hospital, he was back at Capsule Corp. The new antivirals Bulma had created seemed to be working great, it had been over a month with no strange feelings.

But the nightmares were bad. Every night he would have flashbacks and remember new things from the incident in West City. Night after night, he would watch helplessly from behind the wolf's eyes as he shredded, ripped, and maimed people. The recurrent and distressing memories of the blood splattered scenes made it hard for him to socialize, eat, or sleep. He took the medications the doctors prescribed, and they did take the edge off he admitted, but they did not take the visions away.

Since coming back from the hospital, Yamcha spent most of his time in his room. It was the only place that he felt safe, and that he felt others were safe from him. He understood that the the antivirals were working, and that he was ninety-nine percent safe from transforming randomly, but he didn't trust it. In his mind, he felt that he couldn't risk exposing others to him, he couldn't risk hurting anyone again, especially since, if he hit West City again, his victims could not be revived a second time by the Dragonballs. Hiding up in his room also prevented everyone from seeing the toll it was all taking on him.

Sitting in his bed, Yamcha just stared at the wall. Mid-morning light made its way through the crack in the blanket he had put over his window. He had been up since the early hours of the morning, the nightmare of him gouging his claws into a little girl's chest and splaying her open was just too much for him to go back to sleep. Reaching his hand up to his face, he slowly rubbed his eyes. Feeling his face, he noticed his cheeks were more sunken in than they used to be, but that was probably because having an appetite was a little harder these days.

Sighing, he hoisted himself out of bed, and went into the bathroom. The man that looked back in the mirror was still him, just a more tired, haggard looking him. Under his eyes were dark from lack of sleep, and he had definitely lost some weight and muscle mass. Since the incident, he hadn't wanted to go outside, let alone train.

Downstairs he heard Bulma yelling at Vegeta for something, he couldn't make out what. A smile tickled his face. In an odd twist of things, Yamcha was happy and relieved that Vegeta was there. He had been taking Bulma's attention off of him, and entertaining her. Whether or not the Prince liked his new role, Yamcha wasn't so sure.

Deciding that he should probably make an appearance and save Vegeta, he shaved his three day beard he had going, and jumped in the shower.

Walking downstairs, he heard Bulma and Vegeta in the kitchen.

"If you would stop destroying them so fast, maybe you could train longer."

"Maybe if you made them better I could train longer."

Yamcha walked into the kitchen where it appeared Vegeta had dumped four destroyed training bots on the kitchen table in front of Bulma as she had a cup of coffee and the newspaper in her hands. They both turned to look as he walked into the room.

"Hey Yamcha! How ya feelin' today?" Bulma said in a cheery tone. She was glad to see him out of his room. It was kinda like living with a mouse, any sudden movements, and he would disappear back into his room.

"Fine, thanks." Yamcha went over to grab a cup of coffee, he could feel his anxiety rising slightly even just having other people around. Trying to act normal, he asked "What's goin' on here?" Gesturing with his cup of coffee at the bots strewn broken and mangled on the table.

"Bulma said she made new and improved training bots, I destroyed them with one blast." Vegeta responded, crossing his arms and looking indignantly at Bulma.

"Well maybe if someone trained a little less frequently I would have more time to focus on making better bots." She retorted, taking a sip of her coffee.

"I need to train every day. Those androids are coming and I need to be able to surpass Kakarot if we have any chance of beating them!"

"Maybe train outside for awhile or something, the bots and I need a break!"

Yamcha just sipped his coffee as he watched the two argue. He felt it was more than arguing though, it was a weird kind of flirting. A part of him was irritated by it, while the other part of him didn't really care. He felt weird about that part. Still hearing them bickering in the background, he took a look in the refrigerator. There were some leftovers he figured he could stomach.

After quickly eating the leftovers, Yamcha went to rinse off his hands, since he had quietly wolfed everything down without a utensil. Vegeta was now sitting quietly at the table while Bulma clinked around with the damaged bots. As Yamcha washed his hands in the sink, he quickly glanced down, only to see that his hands were stained and dripping with blood. In horror he flew backwards, slamming against the counter behind him. Raising his hands up, he blinked several times. There was only water running down his wet hands.

Bulma and Vegeta just stared at him. Yamcha slowly looked over at them, hands still raised. Embarrassed and still trembling a little from his hallucination, he dropped his hands and smiled.

"Ha ha oops, turned the water on too hot." He dried his hands off quickly on his pants. "I'm just going to go back upstairs now."

"Alright, let me know if you need anything." Bulma gave a fake smile. The mouse had run back to his room.

Back upstairs in the safety of his room, Yamcha flopped down on his bed and buried his face in the pillow. Darkness. It was soothing. No red, purple, or any color for that matter that could form into a gruesome picture. He began to drift off into much needed sleep, when he heard his bedroom door open slightly.

"Yamcha? Are you alright?" Bulma entered the dark bedroom.

"Mmm" He said into his pillow. He felt her touch his shoulder as she sat down on the bed. Reluctantly he took his face out of the pillow, he figured he should probably give her some attention. The light that flooded in through the door was unpleasant in his dark hide away, but with it he could see Bulma's face as she sat on his bed.

"I'm worried about you hun, is there anything I can do to help?" She looked him straight in the eyes. She saw the tortured look in them, she knew he was suffering, but he wouldn't let her in.

"I'm fine." Forcing a smile, he gently took her hand and brought her in close to him, giving her a kiss on the lips. She leaned over him and kissed him again. Placing her hand on his chest, she kissed him with more intensity. Their tongues intertwined with passion and familiarity. There was a deep love for one another there. Wrapping his arm around her, he gently lifted her up, and laid her on the bed. Still interlocked in a kiss, his hand began to make his way to her chest. Feeling the small crevice between her cleavage, he felt his way to her breast. Cupping it gently, he could feel her heartbeat quicken with excitement. Suddenly, the image of him ripping open the little girl's chest flooded his mind. Looking down, he saw Bulma's chest splayed open by claw marks.

Panic threw him back against the bedroom wall. Heart pounding against his chest, he saw Bulma there, laid open with his claw marks. Blood was everywhere again, on the sheets, on him. He saw her face, void of life. Her eyes just stared straight at the wall. Trembling and on the verge of sobbing, he shut his eyes trying to stop the scene.

"Yamcha? Yamcha, what's wrong!?" Bulma had gotten up off the bed and grabbed Yamcha, trying to calm him. To her, everything had been fine until he suddenly threw himself against the wall in a panic.

He opened one eye to peek out when he heard her voice. Seeing that she was not torn to shreds, he just stared at her for a moment.

"What happened?" She said, looking into his wide eyes.

Without saying a word, he wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. It felt as if he was holding on to her for dear life. He buried his face into the nook between her neck and shoulder, and just held her. The relief of knowing it had been a vision and not reality was immense. However, it was also a turning point for him.

After taking some fast acting anti-anxiety medication the doctors had prescribed for episodes like this, Yamcha was able to explain to Bulma what had happened. She knew he was having flashbacks and nightmares; she was just not aware to the extent they were occurring.

"Bulma, I need to get away from here for awhile. I think I need to go back to the desert to sort some things out. I-I just can't stop worrying that I am going to hurt someone here. It's too close quarters, I need some fresh air." Yamcha spoke quietly, they both sat on the bed again, with just the light from the doorway illuminating the dark space.

"But, what about therapy? The doctors can adjust the meds, maybe that will help?" She said, trying her best to be there for him.

"No, I don't need meds, I don't need therapy. I just need to work this out myself. Can you whip up a large batch of the antivirals for me so that I can be stocked up with those?" He stared at the blanket on the bed rather than Bulma.

"Ofcourse." She said, nodding her head. "Yamcha…" She said, glancing away from him "What about us?"

A cold gripped his heart, but he knew what he had to do. "I can't expect you to stay with someone who is gone like that…. again." He looked up at her sadly. "We can consider this a break if you want. Once I get my act together again and I come back, if we feel like the time is right, maybe we can try again."

She slowly nodded her head. Her eyes began to well with tears. This didn't feel like their normal "breaks." This one felt real, and final. Maybe that was because in her heart she knew that she had been slowly falling for someone else.

Yamcha saw the tears in her eyes and he quickly brought her in for a hug. It hurt him too, he felt the finality of it as well. Pulling her slightly away from him, he looked her in the eyes and softly spoke "Bulma Briefs, I will always love you." Quickly, he kissed her one last time.


End file.
